


Breathe

by Damerel



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: ATF, Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damerel/pseuds/Damerel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ATF AU.  Vin surprises Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

The things I do for Chris Larabee.  And I don't mean facing down a bunch of gun-totin' smackheads or some smooth talkin' Mafioso.  That's nothin' compared to what I done earlier today, going into that department store and walkin' into the lingerie department like it's the most natural thing in the world and I got me a special lady who's just dyin' for some of the silk underwear they're selling at prices you could buy a decent pair of boots for.  In fact, I had to look again at the prices once I first saw them.  And it seemed like the less material there was, the higher the price tag was.

At least no one came over and asked if I needed any help.  Guess they must've seen how red I was and guess they must be used to embarrassed guys comin' in for something special.  Don't know if they'd have been so nonchalant if they'd have known who I was buyin' for.  Not Chris – yet.  Don't know if he'd like it or not, but I do know he'd freak if I suggested it to him.  No, this was about Chris, but I was lookin' for something for me to wear.  And the redness on my cheeks was half from knowin' those checkout girls were lookin' at me and smirkin', cos it must have been obvious I don't do this often, and half from lookin' at some of this lace and silk and imagining me wearin' it.  It didn't do anything for me, but picking the stuff up and trying to work out if I could fit in it or not – specially if Chris got me going the way he usually does – was kinda strange.

So now I'm back in my apartment, door locked and bolted, bathroom door locked and bolted for that matter, and pickin' through what I bought.  S'too hot to close the bathroom door, really – first thing I did on comin' home was to open all the windows to get whatever little air's out there blowin' through the apartment as best I can -  but I ain't tryin' these on without at least two barriers between me and the rest of the world.  Anyway, the mirror in the bathroom's the only one there is.

I didn't know what size to buy and I began to get the feeling they were getting suspicious at this uncomfortable lookin' scruffy guy pawing through their expensive stuff, so I just picked up a couple of things in different sizes and took them to the till.  And tried not to have a coronary at the price they came to.  Damn, I hope Chris likes 'em.  Don't aim to beggar myself and then find he ain't impressed.

He's a traditional sort, Chris.  I know, it sounds kinda weird to say that when he loves nothing more than fucking his male colleague's brains out on a regular basis – nor when you see some of the toys he's bought since we been together.  But this..…  Don't really have the fancy words for it Josiah would use, but I seen enough in my time to know what the problem is, even if I can't describe it properly.  It's to do with his maleness, his self-identity and ideas about male and female and so on.  I thought on this long and hard before I went to the store today.  Last thing I want to do is cause any upset - either to upset him, or to make a problem between us.  Hell, I don't want no problems between us.

But I seen that hunger in him when those college boys went past, all dressed up like out of the Rocky Horror show.  Damn, my ass still remembers how excited he got that night; by the time he'd finished with me, I could barely walk straight.

Still I'm wonderin' if this is the brightest idea that I've ever had; wonder if it'll send Chris running, screaming.  I see my face in the mirror at that thought and can't stop the grin that's on it from gettin' bigger.  Chris Larabee screaming?  No way.  Moaning or crying out – now that I can see.  Have seen.  Might even've had a hand in causin'.  But screaming?  Hell, everyone should have a goal.  Mebbe that should be mine.

Anyway, seeing as I'm here, I might as well get on with it.  I strip off quickly, and it's good to shuck them clothes.  It gets so damn hot in the summer here in the city.  Chris and the others tell me I should get air conditioning if I'm gonna live in this god-forsaken hell-hole – thinkin' on it, think it was Ezra christened it that and the rest don't seem to disagree with him.  But it just don't feel right.  More than that, it means that I notice when the weather breaks, when the lightnin' plays over the city like a silver dance of life or somethin', and I can go up on the roof and just feel the rain on my skin, hear it hissing down on the hot pavement, and know I'm alive.

Don't mean I don't like it out at the ranch, though, with the air con goin' full tilt and cool beer in the fridge and Chris's Jacuzzi waitin' to be used.  I may be stubborn, but I ain't stupid.  Just thinkin' of how cool his home is gets me itching to get out of the city for a while.  It's Sunday tomorrow, and no work; mebbe we can go ridin' first thing tomorrow, before it gets too hot.  But we won't be goin' anywhere if I don't get on with what I'm s'posed to be doin' instead of standin' here thinkin'.  Procrastination, that's what Ezra would call it.

I pick up the first scrap of lace and silk, tryin' not to think about it too much, and step into it.  So far so good, but when I've got them all the way up they're damned uncomfortable, and even though I keep adjusting myself it don't work too good.  I look at myself in the mirror, and can't help but laugh.  It don't look too sexy to me, and even if it did, they're too damn uncomfortable to keep on any longer.  I go to pull them off again, only to nearly cripple myself.  Seems one or two of my hairs got caught up in the frilly lace.  Damn.  By the time my eyes've stopped watering, I'm really wonderin' if this is worth it.

But hell, a Tanner don't quit just cos it don't come easy.  And this is Chris Larabee I'm doing it for.  So I pick up the next pair and pull them on.  Mebbe I'm gettin' better at it – or mebbe these are a better fit.  Leastways these don't have that lacy front, but just plain black silk with a bit of lace round the edges.  I turn round, looking at myself in the mirror as best I can.  I did look at the thongs, but hell, I ain't no fool.  Even Chris Larabee ain't worth cripplin' myself for, not this way.  So instead I've got these that just half-cover my ass in plain black silk.  They kind of cling closely to the swell of my ass, and I gotta admit they don't look too bad from the back - leastways, I don't reckon Chris'll object.

Thinking 'bout his reaction when he sees me makes a slow finger of fire uncurl in my belly, and by the time I turn back round, I can see that it ain't just my belly that's beginning to react to the thought.  I stroke a hand over the hardness that's startin', and my heart moves up a pace at how the silk feels against my cock.  I rub myself again, my mouth getting dry at the smooth slippery stuff just strokin' against my cock, which is suddenly hotter than the rest of the room.  Then I force my hand away.  This is for Chris.  Doin' myself like this without him knowin' is like takin' something away from him.  And there's also the fact that I don't want to mess up the fancy underwear.

So I pull them off, carefully this time, and lay them down on my pile of clothes.  I don't want to forget which ones they were and end up cripplin' myself by puttin' the wrong ones on when it's time to go see Chris.  And at the thought of goin' to see Chris, him all unaware of the surprise I've got for him, my cock takes even more of an interest in the proceedings.  And damn, I realise even as I pump myself quickly a few times to make sure I'm interested all the way, I gotta spend less time round Ezra; I'm even thinkin' in his words.

I let myself out of the bathroom and lay down my bed, where it's comfortable enough to take just as long as I want to jerkin' off and thinkin' on how Chris is going to look when he sees me.  I love driving him crazy, making him lose that control of his.  The hunger in the man when he needs me is enough to make me come sometimes, hardly needin' him to touch me.  Just one look at those eyes as they go dark and feral is enough, but I gotta admit the feel of his body against mine, over mine, helps too.  My hand speeds up as I imagine him holdin' me down, his hard body movin' against mine, till he slides deep inside me, impalin' me on that big cock of his.  My heart's goin' like a runaway train when I come, and I lie there gaspin', takin' a while to get my breath back in the heat.

Think I must have dozed off for a while, cos it's cooler than it was, and the sounds comin' through the open window let me know that the street's comin' alive, meaning evening's comin' on.  Means it's past time I went and paid Chris a visit.  
   
 

I'm still gettin' ready when the phone rings.  I let the answerphone get it.  It drives Chris nuts that I never answer the phone, but you never know who it's gonna be on the other end and sometimes I just don't feel like talkin' to anyone.  I know that this time the chances are it'll be Chris, askin' where the hell I am, so I make doubly sure I leave the answerphone on.

"Tanner, pick up your goddamn phone."

Yep, Larabee's pissed.

"Tanner, if you're there, pick up your fucking phone."

I wander over to the phone just before he explodes.  "Since you asked so nicely and all…"

I can just about hear him grinding his teeth on the other end of the line.  "Gonna give yerself an ulcer doin' that, cowboy.  Told you I'd come over this afternoon.  Still afternoon, ain't it?"

It's an interesting line in pissed noises that Chris has.  Guess it's to do with the fact that glare of his don't work over the telephone.

"In Alaska, maybe.  Get your ass over here now."

He hangs up, but not before I've heard the smile he's tryin' to keep out of his voice.  He's not seriously pissed, just impatient.  It's a bad habit of his, as I keep tellin' him.  He's gonna get himself one of those bona fide executive ulcers if he's not careful.

So I finish getting myself ready.  It feels strange at first, pulling on my old faded jeans over a pair of little black panties, but from the outside everything looks as it usually does so I guess no one but me's gonna be able to tell.  Then I drive out to Chris's.  
   
   
 

When I get there I understand why he was sounding a mite pissed on the phone.  He's got some steaks on the barbeque, and he's held off eating anything till I get there.  Man his age shouldn't put his body through them sort of privations, as I tell him, and nearly lose my own meal as a result.  It takes me some downright provocative suggestions as to how I can make it up to him to get him to rethink givin' my steak to the local wildlife.

Some food and a coupla cold beers later, we're just sittin' on his sun loungers, lookin' out over the back yard all the way to where the sun's goin' down behind the mountains.  I can feel his presence there, a coupla feet away from me, and I don't know how my life can get any better than this.

But it can.  And it does.  The sun finally disappears, leavin' the sky all swirls of purple and black, and it's then that I feel him watching me.  I turn my head to look at him in the light spillin' across the yard from the kitchen windows.  His lips open just the littlest bit when I look at him.  I give him a teasin' salute with my beer bottle – 'nother of Ez's tricks I seem to have picked up – before takin' a swallow, and watch the expression on his face change.  Mebbe it's seein' me suck on something, or mebbe he's just ready, but I know we ain't gonna be sittin' out here much longer.  And sure enough, he gets to his feet and goes inside without sayin' a word, and I just follow him in, watching the way the black denim clings so tightly to his smooth ass.  Man shouldn't be allowed to wear pants that tight.  He's drivin' me into an early grave.

Somehow my hands've followed where my eyes were lookin', and I'm tracing down the centre seam of his jeans, between the cheeks of his ass, and lovin' the way he suddenly stops walking and stiffens all over at my touch.  And when he turns round to me, I guess I do mean _all_ over; I'm sure those jeans of his are stretched more at the front than they were a few minutes ago.  I can feel the stirrings inside my own jeans, and it comes back to me then what I'm actually wearin' under them.  Now I'm remembering I can't believe that I forgot, and I can feel my cock getting excited real fast as it remembers how the silk makes it feel, but I don't have time to do more than smile at the thought before he's pressing me back against the kitchen table, his body hot and hard against me as his lips find mine.  And damn, there ain't no one can kiss like Chris Larabee can.  First time he did it to me, he destroyed me.  Nothin's changed since then.  He's hard and gentle at the same time, and always in control.  My mouth opens beneath his lips and his tongue pushes gently inside till I can feel my cock filling as he explores my mouth and I'm clutching at him, needing to feel him against me, holdin' him just as close as I can.

After forever, his head raises and then he's pullin' my t-shirt off and his warm hands are all over me, touchin' my back, stroking my ass through the worn denim of my jeans, runnin' fingers along my ribs cos he knows what that does to me.  I'm tryin' to undo his shirt but the way he's touchin' me's makin' it hard to think, let alone get my hands to do what they need to be doing.  He's pushing his thigh between my legs, and I think I might be groaning as his long leg brushes against the hardness in my jeans.  Then my hands are in his hair and I'm pulling his mouth back to me, needing him, needing Chris.

At length I stop sucking on his tongue, just cos I have to breathe, and he pulls away a bit.

"Sure are eager tonight," he tells me.  There's laughter in his eyes, but his voice is hoarse and I know it ain't only me he's talkin' about.

"Could mebbe wait till tomorrow if it's too much for ya," I tell him, at the same time as my fingers run over the bulge in his pants.  He hisses and pushes forward into my hand, then he's pushing against me, hands everywhere again, needin', but never greedy.

I don't hear too clearly what he says back to me, cause his mouth's buried in my neck, but it seems it's something none too complimentary about me, my parentage, and even my sexual habits.  Still, I'm not aimin' to ask him to repeat it because my hands are finally gettin' somewhere with his shirt and it's opening and his body's mine for the takin'.  He hisses again as  my hands run over his nipples and I can't help but laugh a bit at the mighty Larabee control bein' lost so easily, so he pushes me harder against the table and his head bends and his mouth closes on one of my own nipples.

Damn, but he's gonna kill me.  He knows what drives me crazy, how havin' his hardness pressed along mine while he bites and sucks me just like that's enough to have me squirmin' in need.  Done told him a time or two I don't squirm, but he kept provin' that I do, so now I just squirm and curse at him and try to get my hands to unzip his pants so I can touch him.  Only they're not workin' so good again and all I can do is hold his head close to me and breathe and hope I'm not going to come in my pants here and now.

Some time later he stops, and his mouth comes back to mine and I hold onto him like I'm drowning and he's the only one can save me.  Which is kind of ironic, seein' as it's his attentions that are stoppin' me from breathing.  He's hungry, ready for it, and I'm near desperate for him.

He's kissin' me again and this time he's startin' to undo the zipper of my jeans and then I stop even tryin' to breathe as his hand works its way inside.  I feel the warmth of his hand on me through the silk, and then he's suddenly rigid against me.

His head pulls up from mine even as his hand moves slightly as though to check he's feelin' what he thinks he is, but he's not lookin' at me, he's looking ' down at my open jeans, tearin' them further open, and my heart forgets to beat.  As much as I can see of his face is just frozen.

I know then that this is the biggest mistake of a life that's been filled with them.  Shoulda known it's too much for him.  He's been married, he's been part of those traditional roles.  Mebbe he even thinks I'm tryin' to replace her.

I still can't breathe, but that don't matter no more.  Don't think I'll ever be able to breathe again without Chris.

And then he's on me, growlin' deep against my ear, bitin' my neck, and all the while pulling my jeans further down till he's pushin' his excitement between my legs, humping me so hard that his zipper's hurtin' me through the thin silk but it don't matter, none of it matters because he still wants me.  All I can do is hold on to the tidal wave that's Chris Larabee and hope I'm still going to be be there at the other end.  His hands and mouth are everywhere, and somewhere in all of this he's undone his own pants and his cock's hot and hard against mine and he's just rubbing against me.  I know my back's gonna be killin' me tomorrow, the way he's got me bent back against the table, but that's tomorrow.

He's down on his knees now, pullin' the denim further down my thighs, and rubbin' his face against the silk before he starts mouthing me through it.  And damn, I think I died and this is heaven because I ain't never felt anything like the warmth of his mouth workin' on me through the slippery material, material that's gettin' wet from his hot mouth and the tongue that he's just sliding up and down me.  He's pushin' my legs further apart, but they won't go, not with the jeans, and he snarls and yanks the jeans further down, and I'm tryin' to help him, toeing my boots off and then lettin' him pull the jeans right off.

No sooner are they gone than he's pushin me backwards so I'm lyin' back on his kitchen table and thankful as can be that it's as big as it is and as heavy as it is so it ain't gonna move all round the kitchen when he starts thrusting into me.  And then all thought disappears as his head bends to my cock and he starts on me again.  I look down, and can see the way my cock's poking up from the panties, all wet with excitement, but he ain't interested in that, he wants the rest of it, through the silk.  And then he's pushing my legs further apart and I just about go through the kitchen ceiling as that hot mouth closes round my balls and two of his long fingers thrust up into my ass, all the more eager as he realises I've already lubed myself up for him.  Forget squirmin' – reckon I'm downright thrashin' by the time he's finished that.

I'm beggin' without words for him to take that underwear off and finish me off.  Can't believe it when he just pulls it to one side at the back and I can feel the big head of his cock against me, then he's pushing forward and slidin' inside me an I know I'm gonna die or gonna come because there ain't nobody else got a cock like Chris Larabee's, fillin' me all the way.  An then he's all the way in, and then he pulls back a way and pushes in again.  And I beg him, pleadin' for more, and he starts to fuck me.

And I don't care that I sound like some sort of wild animal with the noises that are comin' out of my mouth; all I know is his cock sliding in and out, and the look on his face as he watches himself strokin' the parts of me that're still covered by the silk.  I can't help it - as his hand works me through the sliding silk, I cry out his name, and that's when he loses it, just pumps into me as fast as he can go till he's groaning with his need.  As his cock pushes home one last time I cry out, arching and then shakin' as I come everywhere.  And through the light and the darkness of it I can feel him pumping deeper and faster still and making noises as he's comin' deep inside me.

And then it's silent like I've never heard, 'cept for the sound of panting that fills the room.

He leans forward and his lips find my neck and, hot and wet with sweat as my skin is, he leaves his face against me for a while.  I think I hear him say my name real quiet, but I ain't sure, so I just hold onto him.  It's an uncomfortable position we're both in – not to mention downright undignified – but I don't care.

He eases back upright after a while, and we put ourselves to rights.  I pull the panties off and leave 'em on the floor with the rest of our clothes.  Tomorrow'll be soon enough to clear up the mess we've made.

For tonight, there's just a shower and bed.  And when I say 'just', it don't mean I'm takin' it for granted.  I don't take nothin' about Chris Larabee for granted.  Mebbe there's some people take the air they breathe for granted, but I ain't one of them.

And later, when we're in bed and he's asleep, I move closer against him and breathe in his scent and his warmth, and I know it don't get no better than this.  Ever.

 


End file.
